


Get Off My Cloud

by valenstyne



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, this is super old but I actually really like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valenstyne/pseuds/valenstyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The escalation of a fight. (Yamamoto started it, of course.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Off My Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd / On my cloud, baby ~The Rolling Stones, "Get Off My Cloud"

Yamamoto should know better. He should have grasped by now that disturbing Hibari’s peaceful moments on the school roof will not end well, but somehow he has proven to be ridiculously thick-headed. Hibari wonders if this is deliberate, contrary to all logic as that would be.

Anyway, Yamamoto does not know better or if he does he doesn’t care—a thought which irks Hibari more than he would like to admit—and that is why the two of them are fighting tooth and nail, sans weapons because Yamamoto foolishly came up on the roof unarmed and even Hibari has some sense of fairness when an opponent deserves it—that’s his excuse, at least—rolling over and over each other in a tangle of limbs. Hibari is winning but he has a sneaking suspicion that Yamamoto is somehow holding back, defending more than attacking, which only makes him angrier. One of them is bleeding, streaks of red smearing across white uniform shirts; Hibari has a momentary, bizarre hope that it is his blood, because otherwise he will be carrying a residue of Yamamoto for the rest of the day—and he finds the idea of Yamamoto being the one marked to be preferable. It will be something by which to remember the defeat Hibari is going to make him suffer.

“Hey!” Yamamoto gasps in a moment when he has the upper hand, still somehow grinning despite the onslaught of Hibari’s fists. “Are you gonna kill me?”

The question strikes Hibari as astonishingly stupid, and he wonders if Yamamoto is trying to end the fight—but Hibari does not want the fight to end; he is enjoying himself, so in answer he drives his knee into Yamamoto’s stomach and revels in the noise Yamamoto makes. Fighting with nothing but his bare hands is proving strangely exhilarating—the closeness of their bodies is making Hibari very aware of every movement, of the heat and the friction as they struggle against each other. He shoves, twists, hits Yamamoto in the side of the head with his elbow—

—and abruptly finds himself on top, pinning Yamamoto down, gripping his wrists, and it seems the fight has ended anyway, because Yamamoto is not trying to free himself. Hibari stares down at him, both of them panting. Yamamoto is scuffed and bloody and his shirt is torn halfway open, and when he sees that expanse of skin Hibari is hit by a surge of desire so strong it makes him dizzy.

He sucks in his breath, drags his gaze back to Yamamoto’s face and finds Yamamoto looking back at him. Hibari slowly unwraps his fingers from Yamamoto’s wrist, refusing to look away and break this—this _something_ that he can feel building between them, something that seems to be burning him from the inside out. When Yamamoto’s hand, warm and callused and strong, slides over his cheek and into his hair Hibari does not resist but lets himself be tugged downward for a kiss that tastes like blood, and when Yamamoto hitches his hips upwards Hibari grinds against him, desperate and rough and uncontrolled. He presses his free hand against Yamamoto’s chest, splaying his fingers over the taut skin, feeling Yamamoto’s heartbeat, strong and rapid like the beating wings of a trapped bird. Hibari’s own breathing sounds loud in his ears, almost in rhythm with their movements as they rock against each other, and then Yamamoto makes a choked noise that sounds like _Kyouya_ and something bursts inside Hibari and he comes so hard his whole body shakes.

When he can think again, Hibari slaps Yamamoto hard across the face and scrambles off him, anger and confusion twisting in his stomach. Yamamoto sits up slowly, rubbing his cheek. “Oi, Hibari, are you okay?” His voice is low, almost tentative.

Hibari glares at him, wanting to hurt him again but strangely afraid to touch him. He can’t make his mouth form words; his usual threats seem meaningless. His jacket is lying in a crumpled heap nearby, and he picks it up and pulls it around his shoulders, turning his back on Yamamoto. After a moment he hears retreating footsteps and the door to the stairway open and shut softly.

He clenches his fists until his nails dig into his palms, unsure if he’s angrier at Yamamoto or at himself. Either way, Hibari decides after a few deep breaths, he has to do something. If he doesn’t it’s like letting Yamamoto win.

Hibari turns and strides towards the door. This fight is not over. And Hibari hates to lose.


End file.
